


Air Conditioner

by Lina_Love



Series: Saw Bullshit [1]
Category: Saw (Movies)
Genre: Adam Faulkner is a man baby, Emotional anchor but that anchor is a hot one legged doctor, Guilt, M/M, McDonald's, McDonald's fries, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:53:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26540206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lina_Love/pseuds/Lina_Love
Summary: Adam has moved in with the Doctor , trying to cope with life after the 'incident'
Relationships: Adam Faulkner-Stanheight/Lawrence Gordon
Series: Saw Bullshit [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1942012
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	Air Conditioner

**Author's Note:**

> ight peep this shit bc im about I write a lot for saw fics and they're all going to be chainshipping and probably smut and just a lot of angst thanks

Ａｉｒ Ｃｏｎｄｉｔｉｏｎｅｒ ；

Ｃｈａｉｎｓｈｉｐｐｉｎｇ

The sound of the air conditioning unit in a shared living space was too loud to a sensitive mind. Overstimulated due to an already awful mental health day.

Each passing moment since that God damn kidnapping scenario left the budding photographer in shambles.

In any world, Adam would have assumed that the immediate aftermath would be the worst. But, like many things, he was finding that anything he thought to be true was anything but.

Dead bodies in person were as real as they looked in films. Blood wasn't red, it was dark and horrifying.

Killing someone made you feel empty, not empowered for protecting yourself.

Shock and denial left him feeling like he was okay. He found it to feel like grief. How long it all went unprocessed in his mind, and how quickly it hit him when he stopped lying to himself.

It was like a train crashing.

It had been triggered by the sound of a door creaking, and before he knew it was happening, he couldn't breathe, he was back in a shitty apartment, and he was being stalked through his own home.

Tears had stung at his eyes, and he only came down when there was a hand on his arm.

When Lawrence Gordon -- his salvation -- talked him down.

Every day after that was agony.

Guilt consumed him each day.

Guilt for knowing that after Lawrence got home to his family, Alison went through with a divorce.

' _It's fine, Adam, even before the game, we were drifting apart_. '

' _It's fine, Adam, I have joint custody of Diana_. '

' _It's fine that you don't have money right now, Adam_. '

' _It's fine, Adam, the house is too big and I like your company_. '

' _You don't have to keep apologizing, Adam. Don't worry about paying me anything. My couch is your couch._ '

' _Don't worry if you can't get up today, Adam, I'll take care of it_. '

' _Don't worry about grocery money this week, Adam_. '

Don't worry, don't worry, _don't worry_.

All he did was worry. Worry that any day he'd be taken again. Worry that Lawrence would decide he was no longer worth this charity.

Worry that he'd never be able to work up the courage to pick up his camera again.

Worried that he'd never be able to pay back Lawrence the life debt he owed.

And he hated himself everyday for how broken he was, how fragile, how much this had destroyed him --

How much he depended on Lawrence, and he hadn't even had to cut off a limb.

Jesus Christ, Lawrence sawed off his own leg and here he was, in shambles, relying on the other to simply function.

Each day was bad.

This one was worse than that. The two days of not being able to sleep didn't help with frayed nerves.

The damn droning of the AC unit.

It rang in his ears, the room around him nonexistent. All that existed was the way the sound echoed, too loud and too quiet all at once.

The sound of the television no longer registered in his mind.

The chill of the air conditioner nipped at his arms and the back of his neck.

It chilled him to the bone.

The same way his entire body was near freezing, coated in dirty water, huddled in the corner of an even dirtier bathroom.

Fingers numb, feet number. 

His fingers felt numb now too. He couldn't move his feet, and the back of his mind registered the fact, but found nothing wrong with it.

One was chained anyways. Why would he be able to move it..?

Still locked away. So tired.

His head lulled back, eyes slowly falling shut.

His body felt heavy, mind exhausted.

He wouldn't be getting out. May as well rest, right..?

Seated on a couch, the young man found himself slipping into a light sleep.

Adam woke with a startled gasp at the sound of the front door opening and closing.

His heart pounded harshly against his chest, and his leg jolted instinctively to assure himself that it wasn't chained down.

No chain, no weight, no stench of human waste.

Panicked eyes moved up to meet Lawrence's eyes, and the relief and sake of mind that came with just looking into those sapphire hues was unsettling.

That's right. He had worked today. Where had this day gone..?

Time didn't feel real anymore.

After the initial panic, his head rolled back once more to rest on the back of the couch.

"Welcome back, Doc."

His tongue clicked on the end of the word, voice surprisingly steady despite his inner turmoil.

It wasn't convincing enough, apparently, because Lawrence was looking at him in that way that made him feel so small and so helpless.

Like he was looking at a starving puppy.

The doctor's lips were turned into a small, tight frown. He took in the sight of his newfound roommate, took note of the fact that those were the same sweats and shirt he'd been wearing for three days. The fact that his hair was getting greasy again. How much looser that shirt started looking as weeks went by.

It was one of his old sleep shirts, his brain reminded. It only made Adam look smaller to him.

Clinically, his PhD concerned him for the sunken in eyes and hollowed cheekbones, but emotionally, he was absolutely distraught to see Adam survive only to slowly kill himself on his own.

"You haven't moved all day."

The disappointment in Lawrence's voice made Adam feel like a child. 

"So? Maybe I'm trying to make a record for the longest time sitting."

"They don't have records for that."

"They have records for everything."

A sigh fell from those lips, those frowning lips, those lips that Adam thought about more often than he'd like to admit.

"What does it matter, anyway?"

Lawrence gave another defeated sigh, not feeling like he should have to explain.

"It matters because…"

Because I care about you. I came back for you. I'm worried about you. I want you to get better.

_I think I love you._

"I don't know. I got dinner. You haven't eaten in two days."

"What are you, a scale?"

Deflective as always. Lawrence was used to it by now. Knew that he just had to push forward because Adam would never admit that he needed help. That he needed to be constantly pushed to do what needed to be done.

He could understand that. He had been able to cope with this alarmingly well, but he knew Adam was low. Too low to care about what was happening around him, even as his body deteriorated.

"You said you wanted to live. You can't live if you don't eat."

He received a grunt and nothing more, and Lawrence took that as a green light to bring over a bag of takeout into the living room.

Without his daughter and wife around the house, it felt bigger. Colder. Adam made it a little warmer, but it was starting to feel like his hospital.

Sterile and uninviting. Just a place to sleep at night.

Adam was starting to feel like home, slowly, but like this, he couldn't find much comfort in him.

Just genuine sorrow.

He sat beside him, passing the bag off.

Despite any snarky remarks, it was a bit reassuring to see Adam's eyes light up as he realized just how hungry he was with the sight of horrible, greasy food.

He had learned Adam's favorites over the months, learned it was the best way to coax him into actually eating something.

Today was two quarter pounders, nothing but meat, cheese, bread, and enough ketchup to drown a baby, and as many orders of fries that he could shove back.

Adam loved to go on and on about the superior quality of McDonald's fries, to the point where even he found himself craving an order every now and again.

As Adam went to work, stuffing his mouth like the starving dog he was, Lawrence found content in leaning back against the couch beside the other man, occasionally reaching over and plucking a fry for himself.

His hands moved to flip the volume onto the shitty cop show that had somehow ended up on the TV, if only for a comforting background ambiance.

"What'd you do today?"

He received another non-committal sound in response, before he spoke, mouth full as he responded.

"Dunno. Can't remember. I think I slept."

As he spoke, bits of food escaped his mouth, and though it was a little gross, it was nothing but endearing to Lawrence.

Adam, at his core, was an abrasive young man who used humor to deflect and defend himself, but a lot of that attitude was still just _purely Adam_.

Brash and unashamed. Graceless, but confident in who he was.

Not confident, but sure.

"That's new. And good. Nightmares?"

"I don't think so. I only dream about. . .that. It felt calm, though."

That was slightly troubling to the doctor. It seemed like an odd coping mechanism, resigned acceptance.

An acceptance that wasn't true. Hollow in a mind too tired to fight anymore…

"You seemed scared when I came home."

"You were loud as fu--"

The rest of a smart ass response died in Adam's lips, and it took too long for Lawrence to figure out why he had stopped talking.

He glanced to the other, to question where he was going with his point, but that question was no longer important.

A hand dropped a half eaten burger down, features ghastly pale. Adam was completely disconnected, and Lawrence was quick to reach out to take Adam's hand into his.

He knew why instantly.

The voice on the television was talking about the scene found at another trap.

Fucking crime documentaries. Hadn't it been about druggies just a few minutes ago?

"Hey. Adam. Look at me. Come on."

It took a few painfully long moments for Adam's eyes to find his own, but at the very least, that meant Adam was here with him, and not mentally locked away in a bathroom again.

The pure dread and panic in Adam's eyes made Lawrence want to cry out of sympathy alone.

The younger man's chest was heaving, like a panicked animal. His hands were shaking, but they'd done this song and dance before.

"Breathe, Adam. What's your name?"

". . . Adam Faulkner."

". . . Okay. What's your real name?"

"Adam Stanheight."

"Good. Very good. Where are you, Adam?"

Adam shook his head quickly, eyes squeezing shut.

Lawrence's free hand moved up to cup Adam's cheek.

"Where are you?"

"I don't know! I don't fucking know! It's dark, and wet, and --"

"Adam!"

The man's eyes shot open, instantly met with those beautiful blue eyes. The ones that were safe. The ones that promised he'd come back for him.

Grounding. Home. Safe. Warmth.

"Where. Are. You?"

". . . Home."

Lawrence nodded with him.

"That's right. You're home. And what's that mean?"

". . . It means that you're here, and you're not going to let anything bad happen."

"Exactly."

It took a few more minutes of neither speaking, consisting of Adam drinking in Lawrence's eyes. Taking in the warmth of his hand, matching their breathing --

Until his shoulders slumped, exhausted, being able to breathe normally once more.

"I'm so fucking tired, I feel like I just got done with -- "

"A fifteen hooker gangbang?"

That comment drew an exhausted laughter from Adam, and Lawrence took it as a silent victory.

"Alright. Why don't we get you to bed? Do you want me to take the couch tonight?"

"No!"

The response came so quickly it actually startled the doctor just a tad.

"No, I mean, " Adam backtracked, moving to shove the uneaten food back into the takeout bag, "I don't want to bother you. Besides, my blankets and pillows and shit are already -- "

"Hey. It's fine. You don't have to explain."

". . . Right."

Lawrence moved to stand as Adam laid back, head falling to rest against a pillow on his makeshift sleeping space.

As Adam pulled up the throw blanket over himself, lazy and half covering himself, he bit the inside of his cheek.

"Hey, Doc?"

He was glad he drew his attention before the other stood and put his weight on that prosthetic.

"Can you hang around?"

Lawrence knew what that meant without Adam having to expand.

' _Can you just stay? Please? I'm scared to sleep, and you being here, makes me feel just a little better_. '

"Yeah. No problem."

Adam gave a stark nod to the response, letting out a self pitying laugh.

"Cool. Don't like, jerk off next to me tonight or anything."

Lawrence rolled his eyes in response, pulling Adam's blanket up over his head, earning himself another laugh --

God. Adam's laugh was like hearing angels sing.

"Good night, Adam."

The photographer curled up against his blanket, face free from it's temporary prison.

His eyes slipped shit with a bemused, "Night, Doc."

**Author's Note:**

> comments kudos and constructive criticism welcome and appreciated so much !!! take this journey with me because this is my first deep dive headfirst into this fandom after admiring it from afar for YEARS 
> 
> Also Adam amiright


End file.
